


The Night Cup

by ashgemini



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-03-07 09:03:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13431420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashgemini/pseuds/ashgemini
Summary: The ACoTAR Coffeeshop AU that nobody asked for. Three tales from The Night Cup.





	1. Of Coffee and Tequila

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian and Azriel get drunk, Nesta is sick of everyone's bullshit

            Cassian’s alarm blared, jarring him out of the pleasant dream he had been having about the hot redhead who had sat next to him in history a few semesters ago. Groaning, he rolled over and slammed the snooze button. Well, he slammed his nightstand a few times before he located the snooze button, but eventually he found it.

            Just as he started to drift back off, his alarm went off again. Cassian hauled himself out of bed and gave his armpit a cursory sniff. Ugh. He definitely needed a shower. After he showered, he pulled on his favorite jeans and a dark grey T-shirt that might’ve been black at some point. Shaking his damp hair out of his face, Cassian pulled on a pair of vans that had long since seen better days and headed out the door.

            It was a sunny spring day outside, with just the barest chill still in the air, and Cassian was grateful for the few moments of sunshine on the walk from his apartment building to his car. The thing about his car was that instead of being powered by gas, it was powered by pure force of will. Well, it needed gas too. Cassian stuck the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine made a noise that reminded him of Mor if you woke her up too early in the morning. He turned the key again and this time the car started. Sighing with relief, Cassian put the car into drive and headed to work.

            The bell rang as he opened the door of the Night Cup. The Night Cup was across the street from Velaris University and the main appeal of the coffee shop was that instead of being open normal hours, it was open 10:00 am until midnight. The shop had a dedicated clientele of students who needed a place to work late at night and didn’t want to go to the library.

            “Cass, you fucker, you’re late,” yelled Rhys, the owner of The Night Cup, from behind the counter. A benefit of being basically a student-only establishment was they could swear as much as they wanted. Cassian shrugged at Rhys apologetically and headed behind the counter.

            “Sorry, sorry,” Cassian said, “Piece of shit car wouldn’t start.”

            Rhys rolled his eyes, “You’d think that by this point you’d have started budgeting time for the car not to start. Or, you know, gotten a new car.”

            “Replace Shelly? My baby? I could never!” said Cassian indignantly. Rhys snorted.

            “See, this is why Az is my favorite. He doesn’t make up bullshit reasons for being late,” Rhys said, clapping a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. Az had been leaning against the back wall behind the counter with his nose in a book up until this point in the conversation. The coffee shop was always quiet when it first opened, and Rhys didn’t really care what they did during their downtime. To be fair, Rhys barely cared what they did when there were people there.

            Azriel glanced up from his book, “I’m your favorite because I’m not late at all.”

            “Point,” said Rhys with an approving nod, turning and heading into the back office. 

            “Traitor,” Cassian hissed at Azriel, who merely quirked an eyebrow and returned to his book.

            “Watcha reading?” asked Cassian, sitting on the counter next to Azriel and looking over his shoulder.

            “Can’t you go bug Rhys or something?” replied Azriel without looking up.

            “I’m already pushing my luck with him today, so you’re stuck with me,” Cassian hooked his chin over Azriel’s shoulder to try to see what he was reading. “Oh hey is that Return of the King?”

            “Mhm,” said Azriel, turning the page. Cassian tilted his head slightly so his face was leaned against the side of Azriel’s neck and angled his head so he could read too. Azriel stiffened slightly, but didn’t comment. They sat like that together, reading Azriel’s book, until the door of the coffee shop opened.   

            It was the Archeron sisters. Well, two out of the three. Feyre and Elain entered the coffee shop chatting about classes, the two girls were students at Velaris University. Feyre was a sophomore art student and her older sister was a senior, Cassian was pretty sure she was doing some sort of communications. Their older sister, Nesta, had graduated the same year as Cassian and the two had become close friends. However, Nesta had, as she liked to put it, ‘a big girl job’, and didn’t have as much free time to hang out at The Night Cup.

            Cassian hopped off of the counter where he had been perched and stood behind the register.

            “Hey Cass, can I get a medium iced coffee and a blueberry muffin?” said Feyre.

            “Sure thing, for you Elain?”

            “Raspberry danish and a cup of earl grey,” said Elain, digging around in her bag for money.

            “Comin’ right up,” said Cassian as he started fixing their drinks.

            “Is Rhysand here today?” asked Feyre, taking her iced coffee from Cassian.

            Cassian laughed as he went to the pastry case and placed the girls’ orders on plates, “he’s around here somewhere, I’ll tell him you asked about him.”

            Feyre turned pink, “Don’t worry about it, it’s totally not a big deal or anything.” Cassian handed over the pastries and drinks and the two girls took a seat in their usual table by the windows.

            Azriel was still slumped against the back counter, engrossed in his book. Cassian stood next to Azriel and leaned up against him so that they were pressed tightly together, shoulder to hip. Cassian could feel how Azriel’s body went tight when Cassian had touched him.

            “Why do you do that?” Cassian asked, “Get all tense when I touch you?”

            Azriel opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by the door opening. A short blonde girl with far too much hair walked in, looking gracefully windswept.

            “Hey, Mor,” said Azriel, putting down his book.

            “Oh, so you’ll put down your book to talk to Mor but not to talk to me?” asked Cassian indignantly.

            Mor laughed and flipped her hair over her shoulder, “Azriel likes me better because I don’t spend all of my free time flirting with him.”

            “I don’t flirt with Az!” Cassian said.

            Mor raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, “Right, and water isn’t wet.” Rhys picked this moment to emerge from the back office, effectively ending the conversation.

            “Ah, his majesty has decided to grace us all with his presence,” Mor drawled.

            “Do you know how late you are?” Rhys said, trying to school his features into a look of disapproval.

            Mor snorted. “Cuz, we both know you’re not going to fire me. Plus, my boobs earn us good tips from the frat boys.”     

            “Can you at least pretend to try to be on time?” Rhys responded.

            “No can do,” said Mor cheerfully. “Amren working today?’ Amren was their manager, she was, quite frankly, terrifying. Cassian was a big guy and he wasn’t at all ashamed to admit that he was terrified of a 5-foot-nothing woman.

            “I’m heading out at 4 and then she’s working till close with the new guy, Lucien,” said Rhys. Lucien had worked at one of the competing coffee shops down the street, but had recently quit and gotten a job at The Night Cup. “Anybody want to go to the Prison tonight?” Rhys asked. The Prison was a bar a few blocks over, it was a little seedy but the drinks were cheap and they had all been going there since their own college days.

            “I’m down,” said Cassian, who had never once said no to going to a bar.  

            “Yeah why not,” said Mor. Azriel nodded in agreement, having returned the majority of his attention to his book.

            The rest of Cassian’s shift passed without incident and he headed home to grab a nap and some food before walking to the bar. When Mor and alcohol combined, things tended to get a little out of hand, and Cassian didn’t have money for an Uber, so walking was his best bet.

            Azriel was the only one of the group there when Cassian arrived. He was sitting at the bar drinking a beer. The bartender of The Prison was a bald man covered in tattoos of bones, everyone called him Carver. Cassian had never asked where the name came from and judging by the menacing look the bartender had, Cassian wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

            Azriel had thrown on a leather jacket to combat the spring chill and Cassian paused to admire the way it stretched across his friend’s muscular shoulders. He sat at a bar stool next to Azriel and glanced at his drink. “Is that beer? Lame. Carver, two tequila shots please.” Carver rolled his eyes at Cassian and poured the shots.

            Azriel picked his up and Cassian grinned widely at him, “Cheers,” Cassian said, throwing back the shot at the same time Azriel did.

            “I fucking hate tequila,” said Azriel, wincing slightly.

            “But you drink it because you love me!” said Cassian enthusiastically. Azriel gave him an odd look.

            “Hey guys,” said Mor, who had just entered the bar with Rhys. She was wearing black jeans that could have been painted on and a red top that she was spilling out of, Cassian fought the impulse to stare. “Whiskey sour,” she said to Carver and he nodded at her.

            “Rum and coke,” said Rhys, taking a seat next to Cassian as Mor took a seat on Azriel’s other side.

            The evening passed in a haze of drinks and laughter and Cassian had to pause and think about how grateful he was for these people, for this found family. Life hadn’t been particularly kind to any of them, but at least they had each other.

            Just past midnight Mor stood up and said “Well boys, enjoy your night,” and walked over to the brunette girl down the bar who Mor had been making eyes at for the past hour.

           “How is it possible she has better game than any of us?” Cassian asked, and his friends just shook their head in confusion.

           “Shit guys, I’m heading home. I’ve gotta open the shop tomorrow,” Rhys said, paying his tab.

           “See you later, man,” said Cassian as Rhys opened the door and let in a blast of chilly air. “You heading out?” he asked Azriel, who just shrugged in response.

            “Carver! More tequila shots!” said Cassian, who had taken Azriel’s indifference to mean that he wanted to keep drinking. Carver set out 4 more shots, which the boys downed quickly.

            “I’m hungry,” said Cassian, impressed by how steady his words sounded. “Tequila always makes me fuckin’ hungry.”

            “I’ve got leftover pizza at my place, if you want to come grab some,” said Azriel, slurring slightly.

            “You’re fucking brilliant,” said Cassian as they stood up. “Fucking brilliant and fucking sexy.” Distantly, Sober Cassian was aware of Drunk Cassian’s words. Sober Cassian knew how his friend felt about compliments, but it was too late to stop Drunk Cassian from speaking.

            Azriel laughed uncomfortably, “Whatever you say, buddy.”

            “No, no, no, you are,” Cassian tried to explain as they walked a few blocks to Azriel’s place. “Your hair is all shiny and you’re got like, fuck,” he swore, tripping over his own feet and sparking a burst of laughter from Azriel. “I try to compliment you and you fucking laugh at me, you bastard!”

            They walked up the stairs to Azriel’s second story apartment, it took Azriel several more tries than it normally would have to open his apartment, but eventually he let them into the apartment. Azriel peeled off his leather jacket and threw it somewhere in the general direction of his couch and lead Cassian into the kitchen.

            He jerked open the fridge and pulled out a pizza box, throwing it onto the counter. Cassian pulled it open, he found half of a pepperoni and mushroom pizza and helped himself to a piece. Azriel followed in suit and they ate in companionable silence.

            Azriel sat on the edge of the counter and Cassian leaned against the wall next to him, pizza box between them. The position was an odd mimicry of the how they had been reading this morning. Azriel popped the last bite of cold pizza into his mouth and stared at the wall ahead of him. They had fallen into that sort of companionable silence that only occurs when you’ve been friends with somebody for a very long time.

            “Hey, Az,” said Cassian. Azriel turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “You remember what I asked earlier?”

            “You asked me a lot of things earlier,” said Azriel, the slur finally starting to fade from his words as he moved from drunk to tipsy. “Most notably, you asked me if I thought you would be able to ride a dolphin.”

            “I maintain that they would be a good mode of transportation. But that’s not what I meant. Why do you tense up when I touch you?” Cassian asked.

            Azriel shrugged, “I don’t tense up when you touch me.”

            “Really,” said Cassian drily, stepping in front of Azriel. He placed a hand on each of Azriel’s knees and Azriel flinched slightly. It would have been unnoticeable if Cassian hadn’t been paying attention.

            “Cass,” Azriel said, voice dropping to a whisper. Cassian dragged his hands a few inches up Azriel’s legs and stepped closer. “What are you doing?”

            “You said you don’t flinch. Prove it,” he took another step closer, forcing Azriel to spread his thighs. His hands were halfway up Azriel’s legs now, long fingers splayed wide. Azriel looked everywhere but at Cassian’s face. “C’mon. Look at me. We’ve been friends for how long and you can’t even fuckin’ look at me?”

            Cassian could tell he was becoming argumentative, but couldn’t stop himself.

            “I’m not flinching,” said Azriel. “Have you proved your fucking point?”

            “You did though,” drawled Cassian, leaning closer still, sliding his hands even higher.

            “So, what are you doing then, trying to get me to tell you to fuck off?” said Azriel, trying to lean back. His back hit the cabinet behind him; he had only moved a few inches away from Cassian.

            Cassian shrugged, leaning his face closer, reclaiming the space that Azriel had gained. “Just entertaining myself,” he leaned closer still.

            “Oh, fuck this,” said Azriel and leaned forward, closing the last few inches of space between his mouth and Cassian’s. The kiss was sloppy, too much teeth and tongue and it tasted faintly of tequila and garlic from the pizza. Under other circumstances, this might’ve been gross. Cassian took one of his hands off Azriel’s thigh to bring it up to Azriel’s hair, tugging slightly.

            Finally, Cassian pulled back. “What was that,” he asked, hand still in Azriel’s hair.

            “Do you give a shit?” replied Azriel.

            “I guess n-“  Cassian was cut off as Azriel’s lips crashed back into his own. Cassian stepped closer still, closing the last bit of space between his body and Azriel’s. His right hand slid the rest of the way up Azriel’s thigh to the hardness between his legs. Cassian flexed his fingers slightly and Azriel groaned into the kiss, shoving frantically at Cassian’s shoulders.

            “Bedroom,” said Azriel breathlessly, and Cassian allowed himself a moment of smugness at that before following Azriel to the next room. As they entered the room, Cassian darted out an arm to grab Azriel around the waist, hauling him back in for a kiss. Cassian jerked slightly as Azriel’s cold hands snaked up under his shirt, pulling at the hem. Cassian stepped away and pulled his shirt off, flexing his muscles as he did.

            “Your turn,” he said and Azriel removed his own shirt. Before Cassian could act, Azriel had grabbed his shoulders and was shoving him backward onto the bed. Azriel’s lips were on his, long fingers working on Cassian’s belt, shoving down his jeans and boxers.

            “Fuck,” said Cassian as Azriel nipped down his throat, then down his chest, and then-

            Oh. 

            _Oh._  

* * *

 

 

            Cassian’s head was fucking killing him. He blinked his eyes opened and struggled to a sitting position, trying to fight back the waves of nausea. He slumped against the headboard and surveyed his surroundings, his legs were tangled in Azriel’s dark sheets, and as Cassian looked around he begun to remember the previous night.

            Azriel was laying on his stomach next to him, arms under his head, snoring slightly. Cassian’s heart swelled with affection which he quickly stomped down. _Stay and wait for him to wake up or leave. Stay and wait for him to wake up or leave._ Cassian took a moment to imagine Azriel waking up and the two of them eating breakfast together. But another image filled his mind; Azriel waking up and telling Cassian that it had been a drunken mistake, that it was time for Cassian to leave.

            Cassian decided, in that moment, to take the coward’s way out. Being careful not to jar the bed, he stood up and pulled on his jeans and t-shirt, pausing in the living room to pull on his shoes and grab his jacket. Carefully, he pulled the door shut behind him and walked out into the watery early morning sunlight.

            As he walked out onto the sidewalk, Cassian realized that he had absolutely no idea what time it was. He dug his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and looked at the screen. 6:41. Cassian couldn’t remember the last time that he had been up this early.

            A wave of panic washed over him. Or was that more nausea?

            Cassian did what he always did in moments of panic and confusion; he called Nesta. The phone rang several times as he started the walk home before she picked up, thankfully Nesta was a morning person.

            “Cassian, it is 6:43 in the morning. This had better be fucking important,” said Nesta’s familiar voice.

            “Lovely to talk to you too, dear,” Cassian drawled.

            “What do you want?” she said waspishly.

            “So, uh,” he started and then swallowed, unsure of what to say. “I think I have feelings for Azriel.” There it was, it was out in the open now.

            On the other end of the phone, Nesta snorted. “Did we not already know that?”

             “Wait, what?” said Cassian.

            “Cassian, you’re a moron. Go the fuck to sleep it’s too early for this.” With that, she hung up. Cassian shrugged slightly, and continued his walk home, trying desperately to think of nothing.

            The rest of the walk home passed quietly, nobody but Cassian was awake. When he arrived at his apartment, Cassian stripped off his clothes and collapsed into bed, falling into a dreamless sleep.

            When he awoke again, the light was already starting to get low. Cassian stood up and stretched as he walked into his kitchen to get a glass of water. He glanced at the clock on the microwave. 4:27, that was more like it.

            Nesta had been absolutely no help, so Cassian decided to give Mor a call, maybe she would be less useless. Leaning against the counter, still naked, Cassian waited for Mor to pick up the phone.

            “What’s up, asshole?” said Mor, cheery as always.

            “I had sex with Azriel,” blurted out Cassian before he could chicken out again.

            “Neat, how was his dick?” Mor said, not missing a beat.

            “Very nice,” said Cassian before he could stop himself. “Wait seriously, ‘neat’? That’s your only response to that?”

            “Cassian, we’ve all been waiting for this to happen for forever. Speaking of, I gotta find Amren and tell her that she owes me $200 bucks,” Mor said, still cheerful.

            “What the fuck, Mor,” Cassian said, trying to fight back his frustration as he hung up the phone. There had been a lot more hanging up on people than his days normally involved. Cassian tried to think of who else he could call, the problem was, Cassian normally asked Azriel for advice. That seemed like it might be a tad bit insensitive, given what he needed guidance about.

            Well, there was always Rhys. He couldn’t call Rhys though, Rhys’ rule was “don’t call me unless something is on fire. Actually, don’t call me unless the thing that’s on fire is you.”

            Cassian quickly tapped out a text to Rhys. “I think I’m in love with Azriel,” it read.

            A message popped up almost instantly, “Are you just now realizing this?”

            It was followed by a second message, “Fuck now I owe Mor $200, can u wait a few days before telling her?”

            Cassian very briefly considered throwing his phone out the window and then strangling Rhysand with his bare hands. Why was no one helping?

            Cassian had breakfast, or was it lunch? Or was it dinner? Regardless, Cassian had a bowl of cereal as he took stock of his life. Or, attempted to take stock of his life at least. He came to two conclusions: he needed a shower and a drink.

            Cassian took a quick shower, belting out Dancing Queen until his neighbor pounded on the wall. Throwing on a clean shirt and a pair of maybe-clean jeans, Cassian headed back to The Prison. Under other circumstances, Cassian might’ve been embarrassed by how early he was going out drinking, but he felt that given the day he had, he had earned it.

            The Prison was the quietest Cassian had ever seen it and he took his customary seat at the end of the bar, pointedly avoiding staring at the empty stool next to him where Azriel had sat last night. Carver walked over to Cassian and raised an eyebrow at him.

            “You’re here early,” he said. Cassian sighed and started to speak, but Carver cut him off. “Look, before you unload your entire life story on to me, let’s get one thing straight. I know TV has conditioned you to believe that because I’m a bartender, I inherently care deeply about your life. I want you to know that I don’t, however, no one else is here and I’m terribly bored, so out with it.” This was the longest speech Cassian had ever heard Carver give.

            “I think I’m in love with Azriel,” he said.

            “That’s the guy you left with last night?” Carver said, leaning against the bar.

            Cassian nodded, “Can I get a beer? Anyway, yeah we hooked up last night and I don’t really know what to do now,” Carver poured Cassian a beer and slid it across the bar, giving him a contemplative look.

            “Grow a pair and tell him how you feel,” said Carver.

            Cassian laughed dryly, “Yeah that would go over great, he’s my best friend and that would fuck everything up, if the sex hasn’t already fucked it up.”

            “You’re an idiot,” said Carver.

            “Why does everyone keep telling me that!” said Cassian, trying to keep from shouting.

            “He loves you too,” said Carver and Cassian’s world slowed slightly and his heart pounded in his ears.

            “W-what?”

            Carver gave Cassian an incredulous look, “How is it possible for you to be this dumb? Have you not seen the way he looks at you?” Cassian opened his mouth and then closed it again.

            Cassian stood up so quickly that the bar stool teetered on two legs, in danger of falling. “What do I owe you for the beer?”

            “You know what, it’s on me. Go deal with your feelings,” said Carver, pointing to the door.

            Cassian all but ran to Azriel’s apartment, breathing hard when he got there. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. He knocked harder, beating his fist against the wood.

            Finally, Azriel opened the door, dripping wet from the shower with only a towel on, slung low around his hips. “Cassian? What are you doing here?”

            “Are you in love with me?” he blurted out.

            Azriel sighed and leaned against the doorframe. “Yes,” he said plainly, as though it was the simplest thing in the entire world.

            “Oh,” Cassian responded, mentally kicking himself, _oh_ what kind of response was that?

            “I’m sorry if that bothers you,” said Azriel levelly, still looking as though nothing important was happening.

            “No, this is a good thing,” Cassian said, realizing that he was doing a shitty job of explaining why he was here.

            Azriel raised an eyebrow, “What?” Cassian leaned across the threshold and wrapped his hand around the back of Azriel’s neck, fingers tangling in his wet hair and pulling Azriel close so he could kiss him. After barely an instant, Azriel pushed Cassian away, his hand on Cassian’s chest holding him at arm’s length.

            “I tell you that I’m in love with you and that’s your fucking response?” said Azriel, anger creeping into his voice. “You don’t get to just fuck me when you feel like it.”

            “No, Azriel, that’s not what this is,” said Cassian. “I-I’m in love with you too.” Azriel’s expression softened slightly. “I think everyone else knew before I did, I’m sorry it took so long for me to figure it out.”

            Azriel’s long fingers wrapped around Cassian’s bicep and he tugged Cassian into the apartment, closing the door behind him. He pressed against Cassian, hip to shoulder and Cassian could feel water soaking into his clothes but he didn’t care, all that he cared about was Azriel’s mouth on his. Cassian’s fingers found the towel around Azriel’s waist and untucked it, letting it fall to the ground.

            “C’mon,” panted Azriel, pulling them both into his room. They would talk about everything later, all of their feelings and their mistakes. But that was for later.

* * *

 

            When they finally emerged from Azriel’s room, hours later, Cassian checked his phone. There was a text from Rhys that read “you know he’s in love with you too, right???”

            Cassian tapped out his response, “yeah, I know.”


	2. Of Missed Cups of Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre's day takes an unexpected turn when Tamlin shows up at The Night Cup

            Feyre was leaning against the counter, talking to Cassian about the new season of Stranger Things when her day took an unpleasant turn. She had glanced over her shoulder, not for any particular reason that she could think of, when she saw him. Tamlin was walking down the street, arm and arm with some girl with icy blonde hair (clearly dyed, unlike Mor’s natural golden locks) that Feyre didn’t recognize, clearly heading for The Night Cup.

            Her heart rate kicked up a notch and she could feel her breathing speed up, “Shit,” she said, interrupting Cassian’s monologue about how Steve Harrington was an incredible character.

            “What?” he said, sounding concerned. It wasn’t like Feyre to interrupt people.

            “That’s my ex,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. Feyre was still looking out the window, watching as Tamlin drew closer and closer.

            Cassian’s eyes grew wide, “Oh shit, the really terrible one?”

            Feyre nodded, not looking at him. “I think he’s coming in here. Shit, Cass, I can’t do this today.”

            Cassian cocked his head slightly, thinking. “Up and over the counter, Feyre,” he said, and she instantly understood.

            Cassian stepped aside as Feyre sat on the counter next to the register, spun around and dropped over the other side of the counter, sitting on the floor by Cassian’s feet. And it wasn’t a moment too soon either, the bell on the door jangled just as she hit the floor.

            Feyre could feel herself trembling and a wave of shame washed over her. She didn’t want to still be afraid of him, it had been almost 5 months since she’d left. But try as she might, she couldn’t stop the shivers that racked through her whole body. She could hear Tamlin and the woman he was with talking, and she pressed her hands over her ears, trying to block out the familiar sound of his voice.

            The door in front of her, the one that she was pretty sure lead to the coffee shop’s back office, swung open and Rhysand stepped out. Feyre knew Rhys well enough, she had been coming to his coffee shop a few times a week since she and Tamlin had broken up, but she didn’t know him well enough to have a sense of how he would react to the shaking girl hiding behind the counter in his coffee shop.

            He opened his mouth to say something to Cassian, but before he could speak his eyes locked on Feyre. She pressed a finger to her lips in the universal “please don’t say anything,” gesture and he gave her a small nod and then jerked his head towards his office. She returned the nod.

            If you had told Feyre this morning that she would be crawling across the floor of a coffee shop and getting the knees of her favorite jeans dirty, she would’ve told you that you were crazy.

            And yet, here she was.

            Rhys followed her into the office and pulled the door shut behind him with a soft click. He cleared his throat, “So, uh, hi,” he said.

            “Hey,” she said, swallowing a slightly hysterical giggle.

            “Not to be rude or anything, but why were you on the floor?” he asked.

            “Technically I’m still on the floor,” she said before she could stop herself. Sarcasm had always been her final line of defense.

            He seemed to be fighting back the urge to roll his eyes, “Well, do you want a chair?” he asked, gesturing to the office chair that sat behind his desk.

            “Nope, I like the floor. The floor is my friend,” she said. In truth, she wasn’t sure she could stand, she could still feel the shakes running through her body. She was leaning with her back against his desk and didn’t plan on moving from this spot until she absolutely had to.

            He took a seat across from her, leaning against the wall next to the door. “But actually,” he said, “Why were you on the floor?”

            “That guy who just walked in? He’s my ex-boyfriend,” Feyre said, pointing at the closed door.

            “Tamlin?” said Rhys, “God, he’s such a fucking tool.”

            Feyre broke into a grin, “I know, right? He was bad news and I didn’t really want to deal with him today. Cassian told me I could hide behind the counter,” she said. “Anyway, how do you know him?”

            “Had a few classes with him when I was a student,” Rhys said.  

            “Small world, I suppose,” Feyre said, feeling herself start to relax. Deep down she had always worried that nobody would believe how bad Tamlin really was, he was a popular guy with a good reputation. Of course her friends and sisters believed her, but it was nice to hear confirmation from somebody who didn’t have an particular obligation to agree with her.

            “Must’ve been pretty bad if you were willing to hide behind the counter,” said Rhys, stretching out his long legs in front of him. “I don’t want to pry, or anything…”

            Feyre sighed and leaned back against the desk, “No it’s fine, I don’t mind talking about it.” This was true, but it was a fairly recent development. “He wouldn’t let me leave his apartment, told me that it wasn’t safe and that someone might try to take me away from him.”

            “Shit,” said Rhys. “That’s fucked up.”

            “You’re telling me,” she said. “Anyway though, my sisters helped me leave him, so now I’m living with Elain.”

            “Elain? Skinny girl who likes earl grey?”

            “Yup, that’s her!” said Feyre, impressed that Rhys knew who her sister was.

            “I think the new guy has a little bit of a crush on her,” said Rhys.

            Feyre cracked a smile, “The tall guy with red hair? He should go for it, he’s her type.”

            Rhys smirked, “I’ll pass that along to Lucien.”

            “So,” Feyre began, “I don’t want to pry, but what’s the deal with Cassian and Azriel? Are they together?”

            Rhys laughed, louder than Feyre expected. It was a nice laugh, the sort the filled up the entire space. “Yeah, they got together about a month ago, but it’s been a long time coming. In hindsight, Azriel’s probably had a thing for Cass since undergrad.”

            “Huh,” said Feyre. “I wouldn’t have figured that Cassian was…” she trailed off, unsure of how to finish that sentence.

            “That Cassian is gay?” Rhys finished and Feyre nodded, looking slightly abashed. “He’s bi, Az is gay though. He came out sophomore year when he and I were living together. Cass never really came out at all, he just started hooking up with men and telling us about it in very graphic detail.” Rhys’ eyes took on a slightly haunted look, as if he was remembering whatever it was that Cassian had told him.

            Feyre laughed at him and he glared at her, “Hey, you wouldn’t be laughing if you’d heard Cassian say some of the things we’ve all heard him say. Thank fuck he’s keeping quiet about him and Azriel’s sex life.” He paused, the haunted look returning to his eyes, “Well, quiet by his standards.”

            Feyre laughed even harder at that, she wasn’t sure that she had ever actually had a conversation with Rhys, and she was surprised by how funny she found him. Sure, this wasn’t exactly the course she thought her day was going to take. Her plan had been to get a cup of coffee and finish her paper, but if she had to hide from her abusive ex-boyfriend, Rhys wasn’t a bad person to do it with.

            “Anyway,” he continued, speaking over her laughter, “Everyone is really glad it finally worked out between the two of them, even though it did mean I had to give Mor 200 bucks.”

            “Wait, were you guys betting on if they’d get together or not?” Feyre asked.

            “Nah, we were just betting on when it would happen, not if,” Rhys explained. “If they had held out for a few more weeks I would’ve won the bet.”

            “You guys all seem like you know each other really well,” said Feyre. She had always wondered about the dynamic between the employees of The Night Cup, and this seemed like it might be her moment to finally get some answers.

            Rhys ran a hand through his hair before answering, “Me and Cassian grew up together, his family was kind of shitty so he was over at my place a lot. Az was my roommate freshman year and we’ve been really good friends ever since, obviously him and Cass hit it off pretty well too. Mor is my cousin, but she’s been hanging around with the rest of us since my sophomore year of college.”

            “How did that happen?” Feyre asked. She was pretty sure she was being nosy, but she decided to ask anyway.

            “It’s not really my story to tell,” Rhys said. “You’d have to ask Mor about it.’

            “Fair enough,” said Feyre. “So what about Amren?”

            “She was our RA, she and Mor live together now,” Rhys said. “Like I said, all of the Mor stuff is sort of a long story, but Amren helped Mor through a tough time and now they still live together.”

            “Amren is a little scary,” said Feyre before she could stop herself.

            Rhys laughed, “Oh yeah she’s fucking terrifying. What about you though, how did you end up in Velaris?”

            “I’m from a really small town, we had a lot of money when I was a kid, but my dad liked to play the stock market so we ended up losing it all,” Feyre said this quickly and without any trace of embarrassment, she had promised herself that she would never shy away from her background. “Nesta put herself though school and then me and Elain sort of followed her here, she and Cassian had a class together at some point so now they’re still really tight.”

            “Oh yeah,” said Rhys, “I always forget that you guys are related. Small world and whatnot.”

            Feyre wasn’t sure if Tamlin was still outside, but she decided she didn’t care. Sitting here with Rhys was nice, she was in no hurry to go anywhere. Later, she wouldn’t even remember what they had talked about, she just remember how comfortable it was, how easy he was to talk to.

            At some point, she found herself leaning against the same wall as him, so close that she could feel the heat from his body. Her eyelids began to grow heavy and before she knew it, Feyre was drifting off to sleep.

            Some time later, Feyre found herself waking up from an unintentional nap. Her head was pillowed on Rhys’ shoulder and she knew she was going to have a horrible crick in her neck later, but for the moment she was still comfortable and content. He smelled nice, sort of like the ocean and lemons. His arm was slung around her shoulders, its warm weight keeping away the chill of the room.

            She tiled her head to look up at him and the corner of his mouth crooked up, giving her a small smile. Before she could stop herself, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, pulling back quickly. She was going to apologize, but before she could even open her mouth, he leaned back in to kiss her harder, pulling her close.    

            This time when they broke apart, his crooked smile had broken out into a full blow grin, which Feyre returned immediately.


	3. Of Parties and Pancakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian is strangely motivational, but Lucien still hates parties

            Lucien stared at himself in the mirror, ruffling a hand through his coppery hair. He’d always kept it long, hoping the long strands would hide the scar that carved up the left half of his face, bisecting his eyebrow and twisting his mouth into a permanent grimace. However, recently he had chopped it all off, and was currently trying to remember why he had decided to do that

            Why was he going to this party again? Lucien furrowed his brows at his reflection, noting the way it made his scar twist and pull.

            Right, because of Cassian. The Archeron girls were having a Fourth of July party, which, in Lucien’s professional opinion, was more of an excuse to have a party than anything else. Lucien hadn’t been planning on going; he didn’t even think he was invited, but Cassian hadn’t left him a whole lot of choice in the matter, just clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Me and Az will pick you up for the party at 10:30, no arguments.”

            “Azriel and I,” Az had corrected without looking up from the soy latte he was making, and that had been that.

            A honk from outside jolted Lucien out of his reminiscing and he walked outside, spotting Cassian’s beat up old Ford. At least it was a nice night, thought Lucien. And it really was, crickets were chirping and there was a warm breeze, everything a proper July night should be. Well, Lucien thought to himself, at least when I end up sitting outside and avoiding everyone, the weather will be nice.

            “Hey,” said Lucien, pulling open the door and dropping into the backseat.

            “Sup, man?” said Cassian rhetorically, shifting the car into drive and pulling into the street. What the ride lacked in conversation it made up for in Cassian singing Nirvana loudly at badly at the top of his lungs. Azriel glanced over his shoulder at Lucien and shrugged, as if to say “what can you do?”

            Cassian parked a few blocks away and the three of them walked to the beat up house by campus that Elain and Feyre lived in, Cassian humming the intro to Come As You Are as they did, his fingers intertwined with Azriel’s. Lucien lingered a few paces behind them, not wanting to intrude.

            It was obvious which house the party was in, people were spilling out on to the lawn, crumped solo cups littered the grass, and a heavy beat was drifting out on the warm summer breeze. Cassian touched Aziel on the shoulder and Az nodded in response and Azriel headed into the party, pausing to talk to a crowd of men by the front door.

            Cassian turned and looked at Lucien, “Real quick, I want to talk to you before we go in.”

            Lucien felt his heart sink a little bit, and was waiting for the inevitable moment where Cassian would tell him to fuck off.

            “So, uh,” said Cassian, “I’m not great at emotional shit, or whatever. But anyway, I know you’re not really a party guy, and I assume it’s because of, uh, well,” Cassian made an aborted gesture towards Lucien’s face.

            “The fact that my face is all fucked up is something of an elephant in the room type of the thing, tends to create a weird atmosphere at parties,” said Lucien. He long since learned that it was easier to speak plainly about the scar than to try to skirt around it.  

            “Right,” said Cassian, “So I figured I’d point out something that maybe you hadn’t thought of before. You’ve seen Azriel’s hand, right?”

            Lucien nodded, Azriel’s arm was covered in molted burn scars. Lucien had never asked what happened, but whatever it was, it hadn’t been good.

            “I still love him, even with the scars,” said Cassian, quietly. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say more, but cut himself off, looking away uncomfortably. “I’m sure that you’ve heard stuff like that before, but I figured one more time wouldn’t hurt.”  

            Lucien felt like his world had shifted in some small, yet deeply significant way. Sure, plenty of people in his life had told him that they didn’t care about his scars, but it was different to hear it from Cassian, because Azriel was living proof that Cassian didn’t care.

            “Thanks, Cass,” Lucien said, voice sounding small even to his own ears. The pair walked into the party, pushing through the masses of people to find a table crowded with bottles of liquor, mixers, and red solo cups.

Cassian grabbed a bottle of rum with a wink at Lucien and said “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go locate Az.” Say what you will about Cassian, you had to admire his boldness, thought Lucien.

Lucien grabbed a can of coke for himself, condensation slick under his hand, and headed for the sliding glass doors to the back porch. After only a few minutes, he was already feeling trapped inside the cramped house.

            The screen door slid open with what was probably a loud screech, but the sound was drowned out by the saccharine sweet pop music wafting through the house. He walked across the porch and leaned forward on the railing, surveying the lawn. A few people were milling around, chatting and smoking and drinking. Lucien didn’t mind being an observer, he never had. It was easier this way.

            His train of thought was interrupted by the screech of the screen door, which he could hear now that he was outside. It was Elain Archeron, who Lucien only recognized from her frequent trips to The Night Cup, usually with one or both of her sisters.

            She was wearing a floral print dress that drifted around her in the warm breeze and she leaned next to Lucien on the railing.

            “Hey!” she said, high voice full of enthusiasm.

            “Hello, Elain,” he said.

            “Are you enjoying the party?” she asked, shifting to look at him.

            Lucien kept his eyes on the lawn, by facing forward he avoided showing her the scarred side of his face. Sure, she’d seen it before, but keeping it hidden was something of a force of habit at this point. He nodded at her, unsure how to respond, “Are you?”

            She shrugged, “I suppose so, Feyre’s more of the party girl than I am, I just sort of go along with it because I live here too.”

            “I’m not much of a party guy either,” said Lucien thoughtlessly.

            Elain laughed, high and clear, “Yeah, I got that.”

            He grimaced, “Is it that obvious?”

            “I mean, you’re hiding out here instead of interacting with anyone, so yeah, fairly obvious,”

            “Sorry,” he said reflexively.

            She shrugged again, “Happens. Hey, do you want to get out of here?”

            Lucien stared at her incredulously and tried to find a good response, but all he came up with was “Uhhh, what?”

            “Oh my god, wait,” said Elain, blush visible even in the low light. “Oh my god, that sounded like I was asking you to hook up.” She put her head in her hands and Lucien let out a peal of laughter, ringing through the yard. “What I meant was, there’s a really good diner near here that’s open 24-hours. Do you want to go get pancakes?”

            Lucien took a moment to get his laughter under control, earning him a light slap on the shoulder from Elain, “But you don’t even know me.”

            “If you work for Rhys, you’re good people, and I’m sick of the crowd. So what do you say? Pancakes?”

            “Yeah, pancakes,” said Lucien, following Elain back into the house. Even more people had arrived since Lucien had gotten there and Elain had laced her fingers through his to avoid losing him in the crowd.

            Elain led him out of the house and on to the sidewalk, tugging him down the street. Lucien kept waiting for her to release his fingers, but she didn’t. The diner was only a few blocks away, and Lucien felt a pang of disappointment when Elain let go of his hand to push open the door, the bell above it chiming merrily.

            The diner was small, red booths crowded along the wall and a counter lined with stools ran along the opposite wall. A heavy-set woman greeted them as they arrived, “Hello, dear,” she said, looking at Elain warmly.

            “Hi, Sevenda,” Elain said, and the pair followed Sevenda to one of the booths. “The usual?” said Sevenda, once they were seated and Elain nodded. “What about you, hun?”

            “Banana pancakes?” said Lucien, but it came out like more of a question. Sevenda nodded and headed to the kitchen.

            “I take it you come here a lot,” he said to Elain and she laughed. He was starting to really like her laugh, high and clear and sudden.

            “Yeah, me and Feyre come here a lot. Nesta used to come with us, but she’s too busy with her big girl job nowadays.”

            Lucien nodded, unsure of what to say. Conversation had never come naturally to him.

            “Did you cut your hair recently?” Elain asked and Lucien nodded, instinctively turning his face away from her to hide his scar. “I noticed the other day and forgot to say something, it looks really good.”

            “Thanks,” said Lucien, voice quiet, “I was actually thinking of growing it back out.”

            “You should keep it short,” Elain said, “I like being able to see your face.”

            Thankfully, Sevenda chose that moment to arrive with pancakes, saving Lucien from having to come up with a response. Elain dug into a massive stack of chocolate chip pancakes topped with strawberries and Lucien took a bite of his own.

            “Damn, these are good pancakes,” he said.

            “I know, right?” Elain said, reaching her fork across the table to steal a bite of his.

            The rest of the meal passed in relative silence, Elain and Lucien were both too engrossed in their pancakes to bother with conversation. Still, Lucien was glad for her company. This wasn’t the night he thought he’d be having, it was much better.

            While Sevenda was clearing their plates, Lucien reached for his wallet, “Don’t worry about it, hun,” she said, gesturing for him to put his wallet away. “Elain here is our best customer.”

            “Thanks, Sev!” said Elain and Lucien nodded in agreement with her.

            The pair left the restaurant and headed out into the warm night, Lucien checked his phone, it was nearly 1 am. They walked back to Elain’s house, arriving at the door far too quickly for Lucien’s liking.

            “This was fun!” she said, fishing something out of her pocket.

            “Yeah, it was, thanks for taking me,” Lucien said, wondering what she was doing.

            “Give me your arm,” she said, and Lucien stuck out his arm. Holding the cap between her teeth, Elain scrawled something on Lucien’s forearm. Recapping the pen and sticking it in her pocket, Elain turned back to the house, “I’ll see you around, Lucien.”

            He walked back to his apartment feeling like he had wings sprouting from his heels.

 

* * *

 

            Lucien woke up the way everyone hopes to wake up on summer mornings; birds chirping outside of his open window and the warm morning breeze ruffling through his hair. He rolled over on to his back and could feel his face breaking into a slight smile.

            Who would’ve ever thought that he would be having fun at a party? Certainly not him, he’d have to remember to thank Cassian for dragging him along.

            As Lucien raised his arms to stretch out his shoulders, he caught a glimpse of something dark on his forearm. It was Elain’s phone number, written in her loopy handwriting, and his slight smile broke into a full-blown grin.

* * *

 

            Nobody, not even Rhysand, had anticipated what The Night Cup was going to become. He was just trying to open a coffee shop, not start the next “Island of Misfit Toys”, as Amren was so fond of calling it.

            He didn’t know that it would help Lucien come out of his shell, help Azriel to accept himself, help Feyre to regain her strength, give Mor a safe haven, and Amren a purpose.

            Rhysand was just trying to open a coffee shop, and what he got instead was a family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I'm sorry it took so long to get the last chapter up.


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